Family
by Zoetjetoch
Summary: Christian comes home after Lucy's funeral...
1. Chapter 1 - Home

**HOME**

"Daddy, dad-deeeee...!"

I'm absent-mindedly making my way to the station exit, when her excited calls wake me from my dazed state of gloom. I look up to see her, my little princess, running towards me, with her arms wide open - precariously dodging other travellers on the concourse. I barely have time to drop my bag, and crouch down, as Yasmin reaches me, and throws herself in my arms. "Dad-deee!" she cries again, breathless, burying her face against my shoulder. I can't stop a shudder of relief at the feeling of this little girl, so trustingly in my arms. "Home." she adds, matter-of-factly, as if she can read my mind. Home. Yes! Here, where my family are, the people that matter the most. Home, where my heart lies.

Speaking of which. I look up from where I'm kneeling, to see that other blessing in my life walk towards us, a soft smile on his lips. My Sy. His hands are stuffed into his jeans pockets, betraying a sudden shyness. I know him so well. He still gets jittery about big dramatic public displays of affection, worried that people will pay too much attention to us. He won't shy away from it anymore, not as much as he used to, but he'd still rather just blend into the background. Our daughter on the other hand does like to be the centre of attention. You could say she gets that from me – we may not share any genes, but sometimes, when her affections make her abandon that almost automatic quietness she gets from Syed, you might get fooled into thinking we do. Her arms are wrapped tightly around my neck and she's smothering me with kisses. "Daddy home!" she repeats excitedly, as if she wants to convince herself I'm really there. I've been away a mere 8 hours, but I know exactly how she feels. I feel it too.

I look up again, to find Syed's tender eyes locking with mine  
"Thank you" I mouth to him.  
He smiles. "Love you" he mouths back.  
Sy knew exactly what I would need after the day I had. I didn't expect him to be here to pick me up, I didn't even let him know what train I was travelling back on. Yet, here he is, with our daughter, being here for me when I need him the most. There's no words to express how much I love him for that.

Still holding Yasmin, I rise to my feet. Without hesitation, and so like his daughter in this moment, he leans in towards me, and forgetting where we are, places a soft swift kiss on my lips. "Welcome back, my love" he murmurs – and like every kiss he ever gives me, it makes my heart soar. After the horridness of this day, the grief and pain I witnessed – and felt – this man, this girl, this family of mine, manage to heal that heart in indescribable ways.

I'm still lost for words as I watch him pick up my bag from the floor. "Let's go home" he says, and settling his hand gently, lovingly, in the small of my back, he leads the way...


	2. Chapter 2 - Healing

**HEALING**

Our home is warm and welcoming, and the moment I walk inside I feel its comfort embrace me, lifting a weight off my shoulders. I put Yasmin down on the floor, and she shoots off in the direction of her room. Sy follows her to dump my bag in our bedroom. Suddenly exhausted I fling myself down on the sofa, close my eyes, and sigh. It feels as if I've been holding my breath all day, and now I can finally breathe again. I still don't feel like talking. I've hardly spoken since I left Walford, and Sy didn't ask me any questions. I love him for that too. We walked home in comfortable silence, the way you do when you're with someone who knows you so well that words have become unnecessary. Only Yasmin's excited chattering and my murmurs of agreement broke that silence.

I open my eyes when I feel Syed's presence back in the room. I wordlessly reach out my hand to him. He takes it, lets me draw him in, and sits down next to me. With that impeccable sixth sense of his, he knows I'm not ready for words yet. He wraps his arms around me tightly, leans his head against my chest, and waits. It's all I really need right now.

I don't know how long we sit like that, but our quiet is disrupted when Yasmin bustles back into the room. "Daddy… daddy Kitchen!" she calls out. I can't suppress a smile. Of course, by now, Yas is perfectly capable of pronouncing my name correctly, but when she first started talking, "Christian" always came out as something resembling "kitchen"… The name stuck, and I don't think it will ever go away. I guess – and I hope - I'll always be her Daddy Kitchen. I cherish the name like a badge.

She clambers onto my lap, clutching a sheet of paper. Without much ceremony she pushes Syed away and settles herself between us. "For you!" she exclaims, pushing the paper towards me. It's a drawing. "For me?" I ask. "Yes!" she says.

I take a closer look: with childish, primitive accuracy she drew three people, so easily recognizable it makes me smile. "Wow! That's really good, Yasmin" I praise her. She's beaming with pride. "So who is this then?" I ask pointing to the small figure with long black hair between the two taller ones "Me!" she says "Yasmin!"  
"Of course" I agree.  
"And here, Daddy Shy!" she continues enthusiastically, pointing to the dark-haired figure on one side. "_You_, daddy!" she tells him with big shining eyes, making sure he knows she's talking about him. Sy blushes inconspicuously. He's not as keen on Yasmin's name for him as I am of mine, especially because I tease him about it all the time. But he smiles and kisses the top of her head. "That's brilliant, darling, thank you."

"And Daddy Kitchen. _Here_!" she points and gives me her biggest grin "You!" Her depiction of me towers over both of them, the flash of blonde hair and the big arms making it impossible to mistake it for anyone else. I don't feel like it at all today, but the way our daughter apparently sees me - tall, strong and seemingly invincible - makes my heart burst with pride. "Thank you honey" I hug her "It's beautiful. This is the best present ever! Thank you so much!"

"Welcome" she mutters – Syed taught her well – then starts wriggling out of my grasp.  
"Can I play now, daddy?" She looks up at Sy "Please?" - he taught her _really_ well - and he nods in agreement, ruffles her hair. "Course you can, darling. Off you go…" She slides off the sofa and makes her way to the corner of the living room where her toys are.

I watch him watching her for a moment. "Thank you, Sy" I tell him softly.  
He looks back at me, genuinely surprised. "What for? I didn't do anything, Christian" he brushes it off.  
I smile at him. "We both know that's not true, love" I disagree, and open my arms. "Come here…" With a sigh he snuggles close to me again.

And it really is all I need right now. He heals my heart, he always does.


	3. Chapter 3 - Him

**HIM**

We sit quietly for a long while. My only coherent thought is how good it is to be home. Like this, just us, our family. And how lucky I am to have them in my life. To have _him_ here, in my arms.

I could have lost him. So easily. I nearly did. I nearly let him go, I almost gave up on us. And so did he. Looking back to that time, it seems inconceivable to me now that we'd been ready to give up. After everything… everything we went through to be together.

It was that realization in the end that drew us back to each other. What we had – what we have – was too good, too precious to let go. In the end it was so easy to forgive. We made plenty of mistakes, both of us did – and I'm pretty sure we'll make plenty more. We'll argue, we'll fight, we'll tear pieces from each other. But when everything is said and done, what it comes down to is moments like this. He's here for me. Without question. He knows me. He's the one who understands.

He sighs deeply, and I sense there is something he wants to say, but he's holding back. "What is it, love?" I venture.

He still hesitates. Then says the thing I know has been on his mind all day. "I'm so sorry I wasn't there for you today, Christian." He sighs again "I really should have been there for you…" His voice breaks, and it breaks my heart a little.

"Sweetheart," I run my fingers through his hair "we've been through this. You _were_ there for me. You stayed here because you were looking after our family. Someone had to be here for Yas when she came back from playgroup, and you had work this morning. That's important stuff. Stuff _I_ didn't have to worry about today, because _you_ took care of it."

"Yeah, but still…" he's not so easily persuaded.

"But still, Sy…" I insist "you _were_ there for me. You were with me all day, I could feel it. And you're here now. Just where I need you."

I know I sound soppy as hell, but I really don't care. I'm just saying the truth. He was close to me today, he was never far from my thoughts – he never is.

He smiles a little, but I sense that I still haven't managed to completely ease his worry, and there's more he needs to say. I wait. He will tell me when he's ready. The days of him holding back on me are a distant past. The silence between us lingers, but again, it doesn't matter. This is us, me and him. It's fine.

His head is resting against my chest, his fingers are absent-mindedly playing with the buttons on my shirt. I know he's mulling over that thing he has on his mind, wondering if he should say it, how he should phrase it, how I'll react…

And then, when he finally does say it, he catches me completely off-balance.

"I prayed for you today, Christian…"


	4. Chapter 4 - Hope

**HOPE**

Without warning, the tears I managed to hold back, ever since we got that horrible news about Lucy, start to flow. I try, but I can't stop them. He's still not looking at me, he doesn't know yet that his words finally made me cry. So he misreads my silence.

"I know it's silly, Christian, and I know it means nothing to you, but… but … I… I prayed for Lucy. And for you, for Ian and Jane, and Peter and Bobby and..….That Allah would grant you peace… and strength and… and hope… " His words fade. He bows his head deeper, as if he's embarrassed about this unexpected openness.

His faith is something we rarely talk about. It's an integral part of his life – of _our_ lives now. Naturally. Self-evidently. But he finds it hard to explain to me why it means so much to him. I support him, plan around his prayer times, give him space when he studies, even get up at ungodly hours of the night to cook for him during Ramadan – but I don't insist that he talks to me about it, or tries to explain. I don't need his words to reassure me anymore. When he finds those words, when he has something important to say about it, I know he will.

And he just did. His quiet admission – I prayed for you, Christian - is awakening things in me that I can't even understand myself.

"Sy….please…" I muster. The croak in my voice makes him look up. His eyes cloud over when he sees my tears, and he reaches out to wipe them away.

"Christian…" he begins, worriedly, but I stop him with a shake of my head. I grab his hand.

"Darling…" I manage "Don't you dare say… don't you dare even _think_ that it's silly… it's not silly to you and it definitely isn't silly to me…" I close my eyes momentarily, trying to find the right words. "It means so much, Sy…" I bravely smile at him, through my tears. He says nothing, but his tender eyes, his fingers firmly entwined with mine, silently encourage me to let go. And when I finally allow my grief to engulf me, he wordlessly wraps me in his arms, and lets me cry.

I cling to him, helplessly, afraid to let him go. His hands tenderly, incessantly, caress my back, my head buried against his chest, and he presses comforting kisses in my hair, whispering words I don't understand, but that mean the world. There is no way I can stop the flood of tears. But there is no reason why I need to. I am safe. With him.

"Daddy?" Somewhere in the depths of my frazzled brain I hear our daughter's soft cry. "Daddy?" We loosen our hug, but only slightly, looking up to find our daughter standing there, her Moosey squeezed tightly in her arms, biting her thumb, her eyes brimming with worried tears...


End file.
